What is Perfect?

Perfection lies in the
eyes of the beholder

“Oh mom, this dress looks perfect”, cried out eleven year old Ayesha, with that wistful smile on her face. She lives in the rural areas of Keti Bandar, a major poverty-stricken village in the south. The dress was old; the colour had faded away and there were dirty, brown and yellow smudges near the neck. A small hole in the dress at the bottom had been patched up untidily and the threads were still protruding out. As Ayesha embraced her mom, tears trickled down her face. Her mom held Ayesha by her shoulders, staring at her as a proud mother would. Living with an income of less than Rs. 200 a day was not as easy task. All that overtime work, weekend maid-work and strenuous saving had led to this- they could finally afford a dress for Ayesha’s wedding. Yes, the dress wasn’t perfect, Ayesha thought to herself. Being perfect was never about being flawless. The perfection of the dress lay in the perfection of her mother.

If I have to define my life mantra, it would definitely be, “Be Perfect”. Perfectionism is insanely difficult to achieve and hardly ever possible. At the same time, what is perfect for one isn’t what is perfect for the other. I have always tried to be perfect- the flawless kind of perfect. I saw perfect as being good at everything, from school to home, from academics to sports, from scrabble to public speaking.

When you see people like Ayesha, on the other hand, you realize that something doesn’t have to spotless to be perfect. You clean the floor; you can literally see your reflection on its shiny surface. It has hundreds of microscopic germs you can't see, but it’s still perfect. You brush your hair; you look great in the mirror. Some strands of hair are still coming out and some of the hair is not in the exact position you want it to be, but it’s still perfect. You work hard, do what you can, and give it your all. You don’t master everything, you aren’t always the top scorer but you’re still pretty perfect.

She didn't wear this,
but you get the point, right?

The marriage happened in the traditional way. Ayesha entered elegantly and gracefully and stared at the gleaming lights, the multi-coloured drapes and the vases of flowers. The room was small and modest, and could only accommodate the family members. During the past months, Ayesha had rarely seen her mom at home. She came back late, all sweaty and exhausted and woke up early in the morning, and took off again. She didn’t tell Ayesha anything. She was hardly ever at home too, and the days and nights Ayesha and her mom had spent on gossiping about the dresses and decorations in local weddings had become more and more infrequent. Everything had changed since then- her dad had passed away in a violent coastal storm, and Ayesha had grown older- it was time she got married too.

Ayesha’s eyes were vibrant and once again, she embraced her mother with that wistful smile, “Oh mom, this is perfect”